


Dance to the Strings of My Sorrow

by whispered_story



Category: Eyewitness (US TV)
Genre: Angst and Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, deals with the issue of abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-10
Updated: 2017-02-10
Packaged: 2018-09-23 09:11:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9649253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whispered_story/pseuds/whispered_story
Summary: Lukas thought things between him and his dad were finally getting better. But when his dad hits him, Philip keeps his world from unraveling completely.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by the [oddishly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/oddishly/pseuds/oddishly). You're amazing, thank you! <3
> 
> Inspired by [this post](http://wrestlingsoulmate.tumblr.com/post/154335479700/signs-of-abuse-my-dad-is-gonna-destroy-me).
> 
> Title taken from Waylon Jennings' "Christina".

It's late by the time Lukas comes home.

There's a light on in the kitchen, but the rest of the house is cloaked in darkness.

It's Friday night and these days he usually doesn't come home on weekends at all, spending the nights with Philip instead. But he promised to help his dad around the farm the next morning, so he has to get up early and Philip hasn't been getting a lot of sleep all week, between school and nightmares and Lukas.

So Lukas decided to be a good, responsible boyfriend and let Philip get some rest. Doesn't mean he didn't stay for as long as he could, until Philip was starting to fall asleep against his shoulder despite the movie playing on his laptop, and Lukas had finally torn himself away from Philip's side. Leaving had still kinda sucked.

It had been a good day though. Quiet, normal. Lukas is starting to really like normal.

Most of his time these days are spent holed up somewhere with Philip. Sometimes he can't believe he wasted all these years hanging out with people he didn't really like all that much, who didn't know him at all. He can't believe this is what he missed out on, this feeling of having someone he trusts and loves and enjoys spending time with. And make out with. God, does he love making out with Philip.

He can't wait for tomorrow to come, for all his chores to be finished, so he can go back to Gabe and Helen's. To Philip.

Unlocking the door, Lukas drops his things carelessly in the hallway.

"I'm home," he calls out and walks into the kitchen.

He finds his dad there, sitting at the table, a tumbler and bottle in front of him. The sight makes something flare up in Lukas, dark and foreboding.

"Hey," he says, quieter.

Bo gives him a smile, but it comes out all forced and wrong.

"You've been gone all day," he says.

"Yeah," Lukas says carefully. "I was with Philip."

"Hmm. Always with Philip," Bo says and gets up, staggers a little. Lukas takes a step back. "Whenever I turn, he's always there. Right there, with you."

"Well," Lukas tries, "he's my boyfriend."

Bo snorts, and Lukas feels it in his stomach, a twist that makes him feel a little sick.

Things have been okay. Not perfect — far from it. But he thought they were better, at least. They were both trying harder, attempting to fix everything that had been broken for so long. It's been awkward and occasionally silent, but better than before. He thought his dad was coming around, to Lukas. To Philip.

And Lukas hasn't seen him drunk in a long time either. Not since before he got shot.

"You know, you weren't like this before he came along," Bo says, and it comes out always conversationally, except the words are slurred. And Lukas can hear the contempt underneath all of it.

And it makes him feel momentarily angry, because this isn't something he was prepared for. He feels blind-sided, caught off guard because it felt like things were on the mend for the last few months now. Enough to get him used to it, to get him to relax.

"No, dad, I _was_ ," he says. "I was always like that."

"You had a nice girlfriend," Bo says.

Lukas huffs. "I didn't want her though. Or any other girl," he replies. "I thought we were past this. You _said_ you were okay with it."

"I'm trying. But how can I be?" Bo asks. "How can I be okay with this?"

Lukas's shoulders tremble, his heart sinking. "Okay," he says, and it's not more than a whisper. The conversation is obviously over anyway. Pointless.

He grabs a bottle of water from the fridge, just wanting to leave and lock himself up in his room, wait for the next day to come. For when he can leave again.

But something makes him stop. Makes him turn back to face his dad one more time.

"You know, I think Mom would have been okay with it," he says. The words are said quietly and they take all of his courage to utter.

His dad looks at him, face a little flushed and eyes glazed. The silence hangs in the air between them, thick, painful.

Lukas doesn't see the slap coming, can't duck out of the way before the sound of an open palm hitting skin echoes through the room.

It's hard enough to make his head jerk to the side, makes him stumble. Pain blooms in his cheek.

"Don't talk about--" Bo presses out, words hissed and slurred.

"Mom, I know," Lukas says, voice breaking. He flinches back before Bo can do anything else and turns, stumbling out of the room and up the stairs to his room.

+

Lukas closes the door to his bedroom and locks it.

His cheek hurts, the sting making his eyes water, and there's a twinge in his neck, too. It's been a long time since he's been hit as hard as that. _Months._ And the worst thing about that is that he stopped expecting something like this to happen, that he let his guard down and allowed himself to be taken surprise by it.

He touches a finger to his cheek, flinching at his own touch, and sinks down on his bed. He's shaking, anger and sadness and pain welling up, feelings crashing over each other like waves and it's making it hard to breathe.

His chest hurts.

Pulling his legs up onto the mattress, Lukas sits up against the headboard. He fiddles with his phone, scrolling through his contacts, past Philip's name. He hovers over it, again and again, but he doesn't make the call.

Instead he settles on instagram and lets his finger slide over the screen, making posts rush past until he finds one from the account Philip set up for them. It's from this afternoon, the two of them with their cheeks pressed together, smiling widely. It's the kind of photo he would have rolled his eyes at not too long ago, at how stupidly cheesy it is, but now it makes him smile, helps him forget about the pain. The account is locked and this is theirs, just for them. Like a photo album, filled with precious memories that are just for their eyes to see.

When he finally hears the door to his father's bedroom slam shut, Lukas feels a little calmer, his heartbeat going back to normal.

It's late. The middle of the night kind of late. He doesn't think twice as he grabs his wallet and keys, though, and eases his door open quietly. It's not until he's outside and has reached his bike, his helmet in his hand, that he exhales and realizes he's been holding his breath.

Exhaling makes his shoulders relax a little.

It hurts to put the helmet on, his cheek still aching. Lukas doesn't care — he's going to the one place, the one person, that will make him feel okay again.

+

The closer he gets to Helen and Gabe's farm, the more it all bubbles up inside of him. The pain in his cheek is a dull throb, his chest too tight and he feels like he's suffocating. Like his lungs are too small, the air too thin.

He can't _breathe._

His bike skids to a stop in the driveway, and he has to catch himself not to lose his balance.

The front door opens as he dismounts. Lukas feels a flash of disappointment, of worry, because he hadn't thought of this, hasn't prepared what to say, what to do, when not Philip but Helen steps out.

"Lukas?"

Lukas tenses, the line of his shoulders hurting, and he pushes his helmet off his face, biting back a hiss.

"What are you doing here? It's late," Helen continues.

"Sorry. I..." Lukas trails off, not sure what to say. His voice is all choked up.

It was such a little thing. Just a slap. But the need to come here, to see Philip, is so strong, nestled deep inside him, like a pull dragging him irrevocably forward, _here_.

"Lukas?" Helen prompts again, but this time there's something different in her voice.

Concern.

Lukas blinks, and a tear spills over, hot and wet, and his lower lip begins to tremble. He bites down on it, tries to keep it all in. Safe, locked away. Deep inside where all these... _feelings_ have been for a while, for years. Where nobody can see them and judge him, pity him. It's not that bad anyway. Lukas has nothing to cry about. Not this, at least. There are people who are dealing with a lot tougher shit.

Like Philip. Philip deserves to cry and be upset and mad at the world. But Lukas is the lucky one out of the two of them, the one who shouldn't be crying like a little kid, because he's okay. Things didn't turn out as bad as he'd feared they would for a while, but they turned out worse for Philip.

"Did something happen?" Helen asks, stepping down off the porch. She looks at him in the dim porch light, and Lukas can see her expression shift, become set, lines deepening.

"Did you get into a fight?" she asks, and her voice is so calm. Like she's talking to a spooked horse.

Lukas is trembling harder now, digging his teeth deeper into his lip. It stings, but that's good. Pain is good.

He shrugs, looking down.

"It's okay. It's okay," Helen murmurs, and then she's gently pulling him closer, and Lukas is crying now. Silent, hot tears spilling down his cheek, thawing his resolve. The wall he's built, brick by brick by brick. Day by day, year by year. Until nobody could see past it, could get to him. Nobody until Philip crashed into his life, tore that wall down. Brick by brick _by brick._ And Lukas wasn't fast enough to rebuild it, to keep Philip out. Maybe he didn't try hard enough.

And here he is now. Wall-less.

Helen hugs him closer.

He's too tall. But his body folds, like it's instinct, like a part of him remembers what it's like. He isn't sure when he was last hugged by an adult. Who the last adult who hugged him was. It couldn't have been his mom. _Couldn't_ have been her, because that would mean years. Endless, long, lonely years.

Lukas cheek really hurts where it's pressed against Helen's shoulder, but he doesn't care. He thinks he's making noises. Soft, broken noises. Weak. Always so damn weak.

"Lukas?"

It's a new voice. Philip's. The voice Lukas knows better than any other.

He draws back, glances at Philip standing in the open door, illuminated by the light from inside the house.

"What's going on? What happened?" Philip asks, taking a step forward.

Scared. He sounds _scared_.

"Let's get you inside," Helen says. Her hand rests on his elbow, steering him up the porch. Lukas nods. He wipes his cheeks with the back of his arm, trying to erase the traces of his traitorous tears, before he meets Philip's eyes.

His breath hitches again.

Philip lifts his hand, just a little, just enough. Lukas takes it, tangles their fingers together, feels the warmth of Philip's skin against his, the familiar feel of their clasped hands, fitting together so perfectly.

It makes him feel better. Less broken.

He doesn't let go as they move inside. He's holding on too tightly.

"Helen? Philip? What's going on?" Gabe asks, stepping out of the living-room. Lukas looks down, at his and Philip's hands. He doesn't want to look at Gabe and see all those things he doesn't see in his own father.

"Gabe, can you get us some ice?" Helen asks. She guides Lukas into the living-room, and Lukas sits down on the couch. Philip sits down next to him, close enough that their sides are pressed together, body turned into Lukas's.

Lukas glances at him and finds Philip's eyes fixed on his cheek, expression stricken, before it smoothes out. "Does it look bad?" Lukas asks.

"Seen worse," Philip says with a small smile. It's forced. Lukas appreciates it anyway.

"Lukas, can you tell us what happened?" Helen asks quietly, sitting down in front of them, perched on the coffee table. She's the most badass, no-nonsense cop Lukas can imagine, and she's talking to him so gently now. Like he'll shatter if she doesn't, or run away. Maybe he would.

Lukas shrugs. "Nothing. Just... got into a fight," he mumbles.

"With whom?" Helen presses carefully. "Someone from school? From town?"

Lukas meets her eyes, feels how wide they must look, startled. He quickly glances down again. He's always been a shit liar. He had a lot of people fooled, for years, by staying quiet, withdrawn. People see what they want to see — he thinks he heard someone say that once. Maybe it's true; Lukas kept his mouth shut and nobody dared to see anything but the straight, cool kid as long as he didn't say a word.

Philip strokes his back. Encouraging, supportive.

"Was it someone you knew, Lukas?" Helen prods. It's like being back in the cabin with her, being asked questions, making him think about things he didn't want to think about.

"Lukas," Philip says. It's so soft, so quiet. Sad.

Lukas hates it, this sadness in Philip. It's always been there, but for a while Philip hid it, was brave and stoic and beautiful. And then he broke. Lukas broke him, Ryan Kane broke him. But he's been getting better, has gotten a lot better — smiles more, talks more, leaves the house more.

And now Lukas is ruining it. Again.

And yet, he can't help it. Can't stay quiet when Philip is silently asking him not to be. It's become increasingly harder for him to say no to anything Philip asks for these days.

"My dad," he admits.

He looks at Helen, and she doesn't look surprised. Not even a little. It makes his heart ache.

From the doorway, Gabe clears his throat and steps into the room, holding up a bunched up towel, twisted into a bundle around something. He hands it to Lukas.

"You two got into a fight?" he asks.

Lukas presses the towel to his cheek, feels the ice cubes inside, and shrugs. "Yeah. No... I don't know," he says and stares down at the floor. "He was drunk and in a bad mood. It's... not a big deal."

"Lukas," Helen sighs.

Lukas is starting to get sick of hearing his name.

He almost regrets coming here, because he's not sure what he expected to get out of it. What he was looking for. Pity? Understanding? Comfort?

_Because of one little slap._

Maybe he was hoping they'd tell him he's being pathetic. That he should suck it up. Parents slap their children all the time, right? It's not a big deal.

And it's not like it's the first time this has happened. He dealt with it before — on his own — just fine. His dad is quick to anger. He has a real temper. But he doesn't mean it, not really — it doesn't come from a place of hate or dislike, just frustration. He gets frustrated real easily, especially with Lukas. But all Lukas has to do is hide out in his room after one of his dad's fits and things will have blown over by the next day. Silence will once again fill the house, and they won't speak of it. They'll move on, move past it. Until Lukas will fuck up again — he always does.

Why couldn't he move past it now then?

Why did he have to run straight to Philip? And more than that, to this _place_ , where he's been feeling welcome for the past months. Where people don't raise their voices and slam doors, where Lukas doesn't have to worry about what he says, every step he takes. Where it's okay to share a bed with Philip, kiss him, talk about him. This place that has made him feel some false sense of security, has given him hope. The crash, when it came, seemed so much worse than before.

He thinks maybe that's what it was. He wasn't prepared this time. That's all.

He'll be prepared next time.

"Has this happened before?" Helen asks.

Philip's hand slips a little lower on his back, fingers twisting in the fabric of his shirt.

It's the question Lukas has been afraid of. He knows what she's thinking, what the question implies. Does his dad hit him a lot? _Hurt_ him? And that's not how things are. Not really.

Right?

His dad has a temper. Has high expectations. But he's still _his dad_ and Lukas isn't being _abused_. He's seen stuff like that on TV shows, and it's nothing like that. His life isn't like that.

It just feels worse than it is sometimes.

Lukas clears his throat, drops his hand with the ice bag. "Can I stay here tonight?" he asks.

Helen sighs, but before she can say anything, Gabe shifts. "Yeah. Why don't you two head on up to bed? It's getting late anyway," he says, all lightness in his tone. He gives Helen a look, clearly asking her to drop it for now. Lukas appreciates it.

He gives him a small smile.

"Yeah. Thanks," he says. "I'm really kinda tired."

The ice is melting in the bag, his fingers feeling frozen. Numb.

Numb is good.

+

Curled up in Philip's bed, Lukas feels better. This is familiar, it's safe. Philip's head on his shoulder, fingers tracing patterns on his chest, legs tangled.

Turning his head a little, nose brushing against Philip's hair, he kisses his forehead, breathes in the scent of Philip's shampoo that he's come to know so well.

It's only been a few hours since Lukas left here and went home, but it feels like that was forever ago now. Like days, weeks passed since that — since he was in the barn with Philip, kissing and touching, feeling so carefree, still so elated by the simple fact that he got to have this.

He went home still smiling. Happy.

 _One damn slap._ Not the first one, probably not the last one. And why did it have to change something? Why did it have to tear him apart like this, make him feel horrible and hurt and aimless, like he's floating in the damn sea without a raft in sight. Drowning.

He's not. He's fine. A little bruised, a little banged up, but nothing bad actually happened. He's been through much worse. He watched a triple murder, was shot and kidnapped, went to his mother's funeral. Fell head over heels in love with a boy when he was never supposed to.

This shouldn't be the thing that breaks him.

He tightens his arms around Philip, who makes a small noise, and buries his nose deeper in that unruly mop of hair. Like he can hide in it, and clutching Philip tight can make all of it go away.

Philip kisses the side of his neck, gentle and sweet. "It's okay," he murmurs. And then, "I'm sorry."

Lukas's chest tightens. "For what?" he asks, his voice cracking. "It's not your fault."

Philip sighs. He doesn't move away, doesn't pull back. His hand resumes tracing shapes onto Lukas's chest, fingers light. "For saying it wouldn't matter, that nobody would care. Back at the hospital after your dad, well, you know...," Philip says. "I shouldn't have said that. That only you thought it mattered. I should have _known_."

Lukas exhales, slowly. "It doesn't matter, Philip," he mumbles.

Philip makes a noise. It sounds a little choked, wet. "Yes, it does. I'm the reason he figured it out. Us," he points out.

And yeah, it's true. And for a second, a minute, Lukas blamed him when Philip told him, hated him a little. For dragging him out of the closet, even though Philip hadn't meant to, even though there'd been a part of Lukas, a tiny one, that had yearned for just that to happen. A part of him that had been tired of hiding and lying and pretending. But then, in that moment, it felt like his world was ending. Like everything had been irrevocably changed.

"It's not just about that, anyway," Lukas says.

"But it's part of it, right?"

"I guess," Lukas says and shrugs. "I don't know. He gets that way sometimes. Mad. At me, at everything. It's best to avoid him when he does, and sometimes I don't. Sometimes I say stuff, make it worse."

"Like what?" Philip asks. He shifts, presses closer.

"I mentioned my mom," Lukas whispers into the darkness.

"Lukas. That's not a _bad_ thing. You should be allowed to talk about her, to mention her," Philip says, voice a little less quiet. Lukas wonders if Helen and Gabe can hear them... and well, if they do, they'll have heard a whole lot of things over the last few months.

He flushes.

"He doesn't like it," he says.

Philip's hand stops moving. Freezes. For one second, two, three, four. And then Philip slides it lower, down Lukas's chest, his side. "That doesn't make it right, what he did, you know that, right?"

Lukas shrugs, knows Philip will be able to feel it.

There's a thought niggling at the back of his head and before he can stop himself, he opens his mouth, asks, "Have any of your mom's boyfriends ever hurt you?"

Philip sighs. "A couple, yeah. But it's different," he says.

"Why?"

"Because they weren't my dads. They were always... temporary," Philip explains. "It's like getting bullied by someone at school and that _sucks_ and it hurts, but you can go home and you're okay there. You still have a safe place, at least. What my mom's boyfriends did, it wasn't okay, but… they weren't my _dad_."

Lukas isn't safe at home, that's what Philip is saying. And that can't be true, right? He has a roof over his head and food on the table, he never wanted for anything. And sure, his dad has bad days, but he has good days, too. Bullies never really leave you alone; there are no good days with bullies. It isn't like that for Lukas.

_One slap can't mean his home isn't safe anymore, has never been safe._

Lukas sucks in a breath and it's shaky. Philip kisses his neck again, once, twice.

"Let's get some sleep," he murmurs. "I'm here, okay? I'm here and you're here and nothing is going to happen."

"Yeah," Lukas says and wishes that wasn't a lie. Either nothing will change, or everything will change now.

+

Lukas didn't really look at himself when he got ready for bed the night before. He didn't look in the mirror while he brushed his teeth, kept his eyes down.

The next morning, in the bathroom, he does look though.

His skin is sickly pale and it makes the bruises on his cheek stand out. It's high on his cheekbone, purple-red, the skin around it looking puffy and a little discolored, too.

Lukas quickly averts his eyes. He keeps his breathing steady, controlled, and his mind blank.

He drives motocross. He's been bruised plenty of times. He's had broken bones and sprains and contusions. This shouldn't hurt more than any of those things.

Lukas returns to Philip's room, shuts the door quietly behind him. Helen and Gabe are already up and Philip is awake, too, sitting in the mess of sheets and pillows on the bed, and Lukas just wants a few more minutes of peace with him.

"Morning," Lukas says, keeping his voice quiet. Philip looks like a mess, a damn cute one. His hair is all disheveled, curls sticking out in places and pressed flat in others, and his eyes are a little puffy from sleep still. He looks soft. Like the kind of boy artists want to paint or take photos of, to capture him forever.

He isn't like other boys their age. It's one of the first things Lukas noticed about him — how much he lacked the pretense of being cool, being tough. There's a gentleness to Philip, carefully hidden behind sullen looks and stubborn defiance, and Lukas has never met anyone like him.

He rounds the bed and climbs back onto it, sliding under the sheets. Philip gives him a small smile and lies down with him, giving him a kiss, before resting his head inches away from Lukas's.

"Did you sleep okay?" he asks and cups Lukas's face, hand cradling his jaw. His thumb brushes over Lukas's cheek, not touching the bruise.

"Yeah. I guess," Lukas says. "Don't even remember falling asleep after we talked."

"You went out like a light," Philip says, teasing.

Lukas smiles. He wonders how long Philip stayed up, watching him sleep, thinking, worrying. He does that with Philip sometimes when he stays over and has trouble falling asleep — he'll listen to Philip breathe, feel his chest rise and fall against his.

"Think maybe we can just stay in bed all day?" he asks.

Philip grimaces. "I bet Helen wants to talk."

"Yeah."

"You don't have to," Philip says. "If you don't want to talk about it, that's okay."

Lukas shrugs. He scoots closer, shifts until he can tuck his head under Philip's chin. Usually, he's the one holding Philip, but this is nice. Safe. Being held, face pressed against Philip's neck, soaking up his warmth, his comfort.

He doesn't want to talk. Not really. But it doesn't matter that Philip said he doesn't have to — he feels like he owes it to Helen and Gabe, and to Philip too. To answer their questions, to explain. To absolve his dad of his guilt, too.

First, for a few moments, he'll enjoy being this close to Philip though. And with the door shut, he can almost pretend the world isn't out there, waiting for them.

+

Breakfast starts off as a silent affair.

Lukas gets a plate piled high with food, a hot coffee, and a glass of orange juice without having to ask for it. There are eggs and bacon and buttered toast. It looks like Gabe has been up and cooking for a while — or at least Lukas assumes making this much food must take a while. It's not like he knows. Nobody really cooks food in the Waldenbeck household.

He wishes he could appreciate it more, but his stomach is in knots. It's getting worse the longer time drags on, minute after minute.

Finally, Lukas can't stand it anymore. He's had too many silent meals in his life already.

"You can ask me, you know," he says, picking at his food.

"Ask you what, Lukas?" Gabe says.

Lukas shrugs. "Whatever, you know," he says. "I know you have questions."

He watches Gabe and Helen look at each other, a silent conversation that passes between them, and almost jumps when Philip's hand settles on his thigh. He lets his hand fall, covering Philip's.

Helen clears her throat. "We don't want to push you, Lukas," she says. "But you were really upset last night. We're worried."

Lukas looks down at his plate, feeling a little sheepish. "I'm sorry if I freaked you guys out," he says. "I guess I overreacted a little. I'm not sure why."

Philip squeezes his thigh.

"You don't have to apologize and you're not overreacting. We're _glad_ you came here," Gabe says.

Lukas nods slowly.

"Has this happened a lot?" Helen asks.

 _Does your dad abuse you?_ , Lukas knows she's asking. Does his dad hurt him? A tremor goes through Lukas, his hand shaking on top of Philip's.

"No," he says quietly.

"No. Okay. But sometimes?"

Lukas shrugs. "I guess," he says and glances up at Helen's inquiring eyes. "But it happens. That's pretty normal, right?"

Helen's expression tightens, like it did last night when she saw him, saw the bruise. "It depends, I suppose. That doesn't mean it's right either way."

"Well, my dad is kinda old school," Lukas says and tries to crack a smile.

Helen gives him another smile. Lukas sees the pity there. "So it's punishment? When you do something wrong?"

"I guess," Lukas says and shrugs again. "I don't know. He just... gets that way sometimes."

"What way?" Helen asks.

Lukas rolls his lower lip between his teeth. Alarm bells are going off in his head — this is a trap. She's trying to trick him to say something. Except, Helen isn't the enemy. She's in his corner, has been for a while now, he knows, and it's good to have her there. She's the kind of person you want on your side.

"Temperamental," Lukas says, because that sounds neutral enough. Not too bad. Lots of people are temperamental.

"You said he was drunk last night," Gabe interjects. "Does that make it worse?"

_Is your dad an alcoholic? Does he hit you when he's drunk?_

Lukas sighs. "Does it really matter?" he asks. "I mean, I know what you're getting at. But it's not like that, okay? My dad, he isn't a bad person. He isn't the easiest guy in the world, I _know_ that, but it's not always like that. Sometimes he just... gets this way. Gets mad."

"Sometimes can be enough," Helen says. She sighs, looking weary. "I should probably talk to him."

"No," Lukas quickly says, shaking his head. "Please don't. You'll make it worse. He wouldn't like if he knew that I talked to you, what I've said about him."

"You've barely said anything," Helen points out. "I'm the sheriff, Lukas. I could help. It's my job."

Lukas gives her a pleading look. "Please don't," he repeats.

Helen looks at him for a long moment, before nodding her head. "Okay. I won't if you don't want me to. It's your choice," she says. "But I should at least call him, tell him you're with us."

Lukas swallows, nods. Looking down at his plate, his stomach gives a slight roll. "I'm not really hungry anymore," he says.

"That's okay," Helen says, not unkindly. "You guys can go if Philip is finished, too. But there is one more thing we wanted to talk to you about."

"We think you should stay here for a while. A few days at least," Gabe says. "Give you both time to think, to clear your head."

Lukas hears the underlying message. The words that Philip, too, implied the night before. It's not safe at home for him. They don't want him to go home because they think it's not safe there.

"I don't know. My dad wouldn't like it," he says.

"You're eighteen," Gabe says, calm but imploring. Lukas feels like he maybe just proved their point — because the thought of him not going home for a while worries him, makes him scared of how his dad will react when he does finally go back. How mad he'll be. And it shouldn't. They know that, and he knows it, too.

There's a small part of him that is starting to think maybe they have a point. Like small cracks appearing, doubt slowly seeping in.

Except, if they're right, if what his dad does is all wrong, then it's been wrong his entire life. Then the careful construct of life, the one Lukas has been trying so hard to hold together, telling himself that things are okay — not perfect, but _okay_ — will come crashing down on him.

+

"That wasn't too bad, right?" Philip says, falling into step beside Lukas. He bumps their shoulders together.

They're putting his bike into the barn. Tivoli isn't exactly a hotspot for crimes, but Lukas has learned to be a bit weary of people.

"I guess," Lukas says.

"Well, you get to stay here with me. That's cool," Philip notes. Lukas can't help the smile that tugs at his lips.

"Yeah," he agrees. "That _is_ kinda nice."

Philip smiles at him, once of those pleased little grins that makes Lukas's heart jump.

It's just a temporary reprieve, he has to remind himself — being here, getting to have this. And he already knows it'll make leaving all that much harder when he has to. He usually stays over on the weekends and he already loathes going home on Sundays. A prolonged stay here will only make things harder in the end — yet he'll take it. Cherish it. Make a memory of every single moment with Philip over the last few days and lock them away in his mind, so he can go back to them whenever he wants, needs to.

+

Lukas doesn't really feel like going anywhere.

Leaving the farm isn't even an option. He doesn't want to go to town and have people look at his face, see the bruise. It probably wouldn't be a big deal, but Lukas can't stand the thought of someone seeing him like this. He still feels too raw, his mind reeling, and he doubts he could put on a happy face and pretend.

Philip seems happy to let him decide what they do for the day. So they hide out in the barn for most of it. Lukas gets an old rag and cleans his bike, while Philip watches him, talking. Eventually he goes and gets his camera — the new one Helen and Gabe got him for his birthday, a digital one that is _totally sweet_ , according to Philip — fiddling with it and taking random shots. Whenever he points the camera at Lukas, it's of his right side, the one without the bruise, and Lukas is going to have to find a way to thank him for that without actually having to say the words aloud, because that would just make him feel more pathetic.

Eventually, they move up to where the hay is stored, settle down on the ground between bales, in the place that Lukas feels has become theirs, cheesy as that sounds.

They look through the photos together, peering down at the small screen. Philip is way more critical, pointing out all the things he doesn't like about the shots.

"You're too damn hard on yourself. These are great," Lukas says after Philip deletes a short series of photos.

"I'm not," Philip says and then angles the camera so Lukas can look down at the new photo that has popped up next. "See, this one is pretty damn awesome. I can admit that."

It's a photo of Lukas, from the side, face turned toward the camera but not enough to make the bruise visible. He's laughing, light streaming in from the open barn doors, catching in his hair.

"It's okay," Lukas admits. Philip looks at him, a grin on his lips.

"It's perfect," he replies and leans up, catching Lukas's lips in a kiss. "Pretty damn perfect."

+

It's not until they head back inside that Lukas notices the notification on his phone, telling him he has two missed calls from his dad and a couple of texts.

Seeing his name on the display makes trepidation bubble up inside of him and he stiffens.

"You okay?" Philip asks. He slides his arms around Lukas's waist, peering over his shoulder as they walk.

"My dad called," Lukas says.

"Oh." Philip comes to a halt, and Lukas stops with him, still staring down at the display. "Are you gonna call him back?"

For a second, Lukas thinks about it. It would be easy. He could call, talk to Bo and they'd move on, forget about what happened. His finger hovers over the screen, but then he bites his bottom lip and shakes his head.

"Okay," Philip says. He kisses Lukas's neck. "Read the text messages, though."

"You think I should?"

"I think you're not going to stop thinking about them, worrying, if you don't," Philip says.

Lukas heaves in a breath and nods. He feels his stomach clench with nerves as he taps the screen, not sure what to expect.

The two texts are short, concise. _I'm sorry_ , and, _Please call me, Lukas._

Lukas stares at them for a moment. "What should I reply? Should I reply at all?" he asks, glancing at Philip.

Philip shrugs. "If you want to. But you don't have to," he says. "And you don't have to say anything to make him feel better either. You don't owe him that."

Philip knows him too damn well.

Lukas nods. He thinks about it for a few moments, weighs his options and runs possible replies through his head. In the end, he settles for simply writing, _I need some time._

Then he turns his phone on silent.

+

Philip goes to take a shower after dinner — which is thankfully a lot less awkward than breakfast — and Helen pulls him aside before he can flee to the sanctuary of his room.

"I talked to your dad earlier," she says.

"And?" Lukas asks.

"I didn't say anything, Lukas. I promised I wouldn't," Helen reassures him. "I just told him you wanted to stay with us for a few days. I had to tell him something, so I said you seemed upset about something and Gabe and I thought it's a good idea for you to stay. That Philip's been having a rough time with nightmares lately anyway, so having you here would be good for him, too."

"Thank you," Lukas says, smiling tightly. He appreciates Helen's effort, but he's never stayed for more than a couple of nights. And his dad isn't stupid, so he probably guessed that Helen was making excuses. That Lukas wants to be left alone, that he'd rather be here with Gabe and Helen and Philip for now than at his dad's farm. That they don't want him to come around, make a fuss.

Helen nods then picks up something from the table. She hands him a couple of pamphlets.

"We had these at the station," she says. "I figured maybe you might want to read them."

Lukas glances down at them, the word abuse jumping out at him from one of the covers, and he feels a twist deep inside his stomach.

"I know you don't think... just, read them, maybe? It can't hurt to be informed," Helen says. Lukas nods, dutifully, and then makes his excuses so he can go upstairs.

The pamphlets feel heavy in his hand. It's just a few pieces of paper, folded and stapled together, but it feels like he's holding the weight of the world, dragging him down, filling his chest with an overwhelming sense of fear of what he'll find in there.

He sits on Philip's bed for a while, glancing at the pamphlets without daring to open one. He glances at the back, looking at anything but the actual words, reading everything but the actual content first.

The pamphlet is old as shit, and it makes Lukas laugh, but after a few moments the amusement fades and he turns it over in his hand again.

"Don't be such a wuss," he finally whispers to himself. Whatever is in there, it won't apply to him anyway. Not entirely.

And it doesn't. Not all of it. But as Lukas skims the words — quickly, superficially — he picks out enough things that do. Things, _signs_ , that make his stomach drop. It's only the things that don't apply to his situation that make him feel okay, because surely it can't be that bad then, right? It can't be true.

He bets tons of people would read this and find bits and pieces of themselves in the words. Everyone has been scared, has been intimidated by someone. And everyone has felt anger, has struggled with their emotions and trusting people. Not everything is a sign of trauma. Lukas isn't traumatized, not broken — just a little dented. A little bruised.

And then he finds a little blurb that makes his stomach drop, makes him push the pamphlet away. About every third abused child ends up becoming abusive, too.

Why would they even print that on a pamphlet? Why would they tell someone that? It's already shitty enough.

At least the whole thing is old, so maybe things have changed. Maybe there's a new study that says just because your dad hits you sometimes won't mean you'll grow up to be like him at all. Lukas won't turn out like his dad.

Except — hasn't he already? A little at least. He has a temper, has reacted in anger more times than he's proud to admit, and he punched Philip.

He rubs his eyes, feeling tired and depressed, and startles when the door opens. Philip comes inside, dressed in boxer-briefs and a t-shirt, damp hair curling around his face.

His expression shifts to worry when their eyes meet.

"Is everything okay?" he asks, and shuts the door before joining Lukas on the bed.

Lukas shrugs. He leans against the headboard of the bed, knees pulled up, and pushes the pamphlets further away with his toe. "Helen gave me these."

"What are they?" Philip asks, tilting his head as he looks at them. Lukas watches him read the title that's facing up, watches understanding dawn on his face. "She means well, Lukas."

"I know," Lukas says. "It's bullshit though. Tons of the stuff in there doesn't even apply to me, so ..."

"Tons?" Philip echoes.

Lukas shrugs. "Doesn't matter. It's not like that," he says, feeling like a broken record, repeating himself over and over again.

"It doesn't matter," he repeats, more forcefully. "So, some of it fits. But it doesn't make sense. It doesn't —"

He stops, sucking in a breath.

"Okay," Philip says softly. He leans into Lukas's side, kissing his jaw, murmurs, "Okay."

Lukas nods shakily, glad Philip is willing to drop this. To accept and move on. And still — _still_. "Philip," he says, his voice cracking. He grabs Philip's hand, twining their fingers together. "Don't ever let me hurt you again."

"What?" Philip pulls back, looking at him with wide eyes. Lukas stares, at that beautiful, kind face. At the person who, despite everything, never gave up on him completely. Accepted all his bullshit.

"It says a lot of abused children become abusers, too," he tries to explain, and wishes he'd read the whole thing more carefully, remembered the numbers he skimmed so he could explain it better.

And he knows what he's implying, what he's admitting, but enough of the things fit. Not all of it. But there were passages here and there that felt they were written about him. Maybe it didn't happen daily, or even weekly, not the violence anyway. But Lukas can't remember not being intimidated by his dad, scared to some extent. Days where he didn't want to have to go home, where he dreaded every interaction with his dad, where every little mistake he made felt big, too huge.

And how it made him lash out, how his own fear translated to anger. How withdrawn he's been, how he's pushed everyone away. Didn't know how to let people in. Until Philip pushed back, wormed his way in no matter how much Lukas didn't want him too.

And that's what really scares him. Not what his dad has done, because Lukas has been used to this kind of behavior his entire life and it's okay, it's _not that bad_ , but the thought of becoming like him? Of hurting Philip? That's what makes his stomach roll, his heart beat faster with fear. He doesn't want that for Philip, for _them._

"Lukas," Philip murmurs.

"I already hit you once. I've said and done stuff... I don't want to be like that," Lukas admits quietly.

"That was different. You were _scared_."

"Still," Lukas insists, and Philip squeezes his hand.

"Okay. Okay, fine. I won't let you hurt me."

"Promise?"

"Yeah," Philip says and kisses his jaw, his cheek, the corner of his mouth. Lukas turns his head, is helpless to do anything else with Philip so close. Their lips meet, and it's slow at first, comforting. Slowly, the kisses deepens, heats up, and Lukas makes a grunting noise when he suddenly finds himself with a lap full of Philip. Warm, tall, and sweet Philip.

His.

And Lukas wishes he had treated him right from the beginning. Had given Philip all the things he deserves, instead of fucking everything up so badly. So irrevocably.

Lukas lets his hands fall down to Philip's thighs, fingers skating up the back of them, under the legs of his boxer-briefs. Squeezing the firm flesh, Lukas pulls back a little, drops kisses onto Philip's mouth, short and sweet, before resting their foreheads together.

Blinking his eyes open, he murmurs, "I mean it. You have to promise."

"I know. I _do_. But I'm here. And I'm gonna be here to remind you of this if you ever need me to," Philip replies. "You're not going to be like him, I promise."

"Just like that?" Lukas asks.

"Yeah. I _know_ you and you're nothing like him, Lukas," Philip says and cups Lukas's cheek with one hand, rubbing his thumb over his cheek. The touch is gentle, comforting, and Lukas lets his eyes slide close for a moment. "You never scared me. Not really. You were the one that was scared... and you changed. You're not like that anymore."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," Philip says. "And you're not alone in this either. I know what it's like, okay? I'm the kid of an addict — there are statistics about that, too. About how likely I am to get addicted as well. Doesn't mean we have to be like that, Lukas – things aren't set in stone, okay?"

"You worry about it, though?" Lukas asks, because it seems impossible. Philip has made his stance on drugs pretty clear and Lukas can't imagine him ever touching them, or even being tempted to. After everything they cost him, Philip has more reason to hate drugs than anyone else he knows.

"Sometimes, yeah. Other times I think there's no fucking way in hell but... it's still scary," Philip admits.

"Well, I'm here, too. I won't let that happen."

"See? We've got each other." Philip smiles at him.

"Yeah," Lukas says and drags Philip back into another kiss. He pulls his knees further up, making Philip slide forward, against him. He feels the press of Philip's dick, half-hard, and Philip makes the smallest, sweetest noise.

It's like something twitches inside of him, need flooding his body.

Philip always does this to him. From the moment they met, it's like the smallest thing about Philip can make him lose his mind, get him going — _wanting_.

He tightens his grip on Philip's thighs, tugging him in close, and then lets his hands wander further up as they kiss, slip underneath the legs of his boxer-briefs. Philip moans into the kiss as Lukas palms his cheeks, rocking against him.

And just like that, it's like everything else finally falls away. The worry, the fear — everything that has happened in the last 24 hours stops mattering for now, stops weighing him down.

Philip does this. He makes everything fade away, reducing Lukas's world to nothing but this: This intense feeling of being drawn to Philip, like looking at him makes time stand still, the world stop spinning. And all Lukas does is want. To touch, to kiss, to hold, to fuck.

They undress in a hurry, impatient fingers tugging at fabric and fumbling with clothes. It takes some maneuvering, getting everything off, and Philip laughs into the kiss as they twist and shift to strip off clothes without pulling away from each other.

Philip rocking down against him, Lukas breaks the kiss just long enough to grab the lube, before he crashes their lips together again. Kisses Philip, eats the soft noises right out of his mouth, when he finally slides slick fingers between his cheeks and starts working him open. One finger turns into two and then three, every single noise Philip makes spurring him on, getting his heart to race faster in his chest, want coiling tightly in his stomach.

"'m ready," Philip finally mumbles. He breaks the kiss, lips smearing against Lukas's cheek as he lifts up. Lukas grabs the lube, squeezes more than he needs onto his hand and slicks himself up. He watches, transfixed, as he grabs the base of his dick and Philip gets into place, before slowly sinking down on him.

Philip's cheeks are flushed, eyes dark and bruised lips parted, and it takes Lukas's breath away. All of it. Philip on top of him, so stunning and turned on, and the tight, wet heat that engulfs him as Philip takes him in deeper, slowly opening up around him.

He feels everything. The way Philip's muscles tighten at the intrusion, before relaxing slowly, giving way, letting Lukas slide in deeper. It's not a feeling Lukas will ever be able to describe, to put into words — that moment of sinking into Philip's body. Of Philip taking him, so eagerly, so beautifully.

"Fuck. _Fuck_ ," Lukas spits out. The deep groan that escapes him is swallowed up by Philip's mouth on his as he settles on his lap, Lukas buried all the way inside of him. Cupping Lukas's face in both of his hands, never breaking the kiss, he starts to move, swiveling his hips, their bodies pressed together.

It's hot and fast and sloppy. Their kisses are needy and uncoordinated, their bodies rocking together desperately, Philip pushing down while Lukas thrusts up as best as he can, burying himself deeply in the tight heat of Philip's body. They're both making noises — probably being too loud, but Lukas doesn't care. He eats the little whimpers and moans out of Philip's mouth, the gasp he lets out when Lukas slides a finger between his cheeks, feels the place where they're connected, the stretch of Philip's rim around him, tacky with lube, as he slides in and out of him.

It's over too soon, their hips moving together almost in a frenzy, and yet it's the most perfect thing Lukas has ever felt. It reminds him of the first time, the need and want that was almost overwhelming, making him feel like it was going to break open, rip him apart at the seams that were barely holding together anyway. Too much, too good, the ways Philip made him feel almost too intense.

Gripping Philip's hips, fingers digging into the flesh, he pumps his hips up. Pleasure crashes over him, in waves that leave him trembling and burning, emptying himself deep inside Philip. He feels Philip come, too. Feels the muscles tighten around him, the sensation almost too much, and the stickiness spreading between their stomachs.

Spent, sated, they cling together until their breaths even out. Philip rests his cheek on Lukas's shoulder, kisses the side of his neck, his arms wrapped firmly around Lukas. Lukas strokes Philip's back, feeling his racing heart slowly settle again, leaving behind only the much calmer buzz of their euphoria.

 _I love you_ — the words are on the tip of his tongue. He's said them before, but it feels more important than ever before to say them now. But he can't. He feels like if he utters those words, puts into words all these emotions swirling around inside of him that all narrow down to this, he's going to break apart, break down.

They're not enough anyway. No words could be enough to express how he feels about Philip, what it's like to love someone so completely after all these years of closing himself off.

He keeps stroking Philip's back, turns his head to kiss tangled, sweaty curls, and holds on tightly.

+

It's almost funny how nobody seems to look at Lukas differently at school on Monday.

He feels different. Feels like the bruise on his cheek is a beacon of light, drawing attention to him, declaring to the whole world what life at home is like for him.

A few people notice. Of course they do. But when Lukas tells them he had a little accident with his bike, everyone shrugs it off. Accepts his lie. Moves on.

Rose is the only one who looks like she wants to say something. Wants to question Lukas's excuse. But in the end she just nods, says, "Oh. Okay. Well, I always told you to be more careful."

It's so normal. Like any other day at school. It's like nobody can see the fear in his eyes, the sadness he feels. The freak-out that is just around the corner, always threatening to overcome him.

Nobody wants to see it.

So Lukas forces a smile onto his face, the way he always has. But he holds onto Philip's hand when he's next to him, gripping it tightly. Letting it ground him.

This was his life for years. Telling lies and blending in, keeping his head down, and nobody ever saw past it. Suspected anything. It was normal, because it was all Lukas ever knew. Nobody ever looked at him and saw the cracks, saw how broken he was.

He isn't sure how he ever did this. How he could keep going, walking these hallways every day like nothing in his life was ever wrong, without Philip by his side.

+

Lukas is all but ready to run out of the building the second the bell rings, signaling the end of his final class for the day.

He meets Philip outside, by his bike.

"Let's go for a ride," Philip suggests. He's smiling and he sounds casual, but Lukas knows Philip can read him. Can see the tension coiled up inside of him.

Lukas exhales and nods, but it's not until they're on the road, the engine roaring under him and Philip pressed against his back, arms wrapped tightly around him, that he feels himself relax.

He drives them out to a secluded spot by the lake, one he's taken Philip to a few times before — but nobody else ever before. Not Rose, not any of his other friends. They sit down together, side by side, but stay far enough away that Lukas knows Philip won't feel uncomfortable.

"Better?" Philip asks.

Lukas lets out a shaky breath, still feeling like he's buzzing with tension, but he nods slowly. "Getting there." He picks up a small rock, tossing it into the water. He watches water splash up, ripples forming where the rock hit the surface, spreading out in rings.

"You never told me why you don't swim," he says, the words spilling from his mouth without him really thinking about it. He can feel Philip stiffen next to him, bodies pressed together.

"I know you're scared of it," he adds, more quietly. "You don't have to tell me."

Philip snorts. "It's stupid, 's all," he says, and cuffs his boots against the ground, kicking up dirt. "Just one of those things, you know? I... I almost drowned as a kid. Or well, I don't even really remember. I was pretty young, maybe three or four. So it's probably not real memories, you know? Probably just something that I built up in my head and it wasn't even a big deal."

"Yeah," Lukas says, even though he doesn't really think that's true. Not when Philip can't even go near the water without getting uncomfortable. "Was it a lake or something?"

Philip shakes his head. "No. Just a bathtub," he says. "My mom... my mom left the room or something. I can't really remember and she's told me different stories about it, so... anyway, I must have slipped under water and I was too small to get out by myself. My mom pulled me out in time, but... I kinda remember breathing in water, choking on it. Not being able to breathe. My mom said I was scared to go into the tub after that and I guess it just kinda stuck."

"You never learned to swim?"

Philip shakes his head. "I just... it freaks me out. Kinda funny, 'cause I like the sound of rain and rushing water. It calms me down," he says "It's just the thought of getting into water that scares me. It was never a big deal either... not like there are lot of lakes in the city and stuff... I know it's stupid."

"It's not," Lukas promises. These days, he can't hear loud noises without flinching, neither of them can, so he gets it. Months of therapy haven't helped him when it comes to that, and he's not sure it'll ever change.

He wraps his arm around Philip, tugs him against him, and kisses Philip's temple, noses the messy hair, before resting his cheek against it for a moment, looking out at the water, wondering what it must be like for Philip. To see the smooth, calm surface of the water and feel fear, trepidation. To know it's somewhere he can't go.

Except he did.

"Philip," Lukas says.

Philip twists in his arms and pulls back enough to look at him. "What?" he asks, his eyes concerned.

"You pulled me out," Lukas says. "I don't remember who told me, but someone did. When I got shot, you got into the water and got me out."

Philip shrugs. "Couldn't let you drown."

"But you're _terrified_ of water," Lukas says.

Philip looks away, and Lukas can see him swallow, jaw flexing.

"I was more terrified of you dying," Philip says, as if it's not a big deal. As if he isn't tearing Lukas up inside, knowing Philip did that for him.

Philip gives him a small smile and nudges him. "Your turn," he says.

"What?"

Philip's smile gets a little wider. "I told you something," he explains. "It's your turn to tell me something, too."

Like they did that day in New York, Lukas thinks. He nods and looks out at the water again, thinking, carefully picking one of the many things he never told Philip. One of the many things he's kept to himself for eighteen years.

He picks up another few rocks, tossing them into the water and watching them disappear, before saying. "It's not exactly a secret, but —" He stops, feeling a flare of nerves. "Would you go to the cemetery with me one day?"

"What?" Philip asks, looking a little puzzled

Lukas shrugs sheepishly. "I want you to meet my mom," he admits, because it's something he's been thinking about for a while. He rarely goes to visit her grave, knows his father doesn't like it and it always made a part of him feel guilty when he did.

Philip takes his hand in his, bringing it up and brushing his lips against Lukas's knuckles. "I'd like that," he says, and Lukas feels something around his heart loosen, letting go.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," Philip says and smiles at him. Lukas nods.

"Okay. Cool," he says.

Philip looks thoughtful again, serious. When he opens his mouth to talk, Lukas can tell he's a little nervous, eyes flitting down to their clasped hands. "You ever dread going home?"

"That's not about you," Lukas points out, trying to keep his tone light, because the question is too real. It hits home, making everything he's been trying not to think about bubble up to the surface again in a matter of seconds.

Philip nods. "I used to feel that way. For ages. And it's not the same, because I wasn't scared for myself," he says, as if Lukas hadn't replied to his question. "I was scared of what I'd find. If my mom would be okay. I know what it's like to go home and feel this knot in your stomach, this fear and worry and uncertainty. And I... I would do anything in the world to get my mom back, but there's a tiny selfish part of me that is glad I don't feel that way anymore. It was...crushing."

"Philip. I'm sorry," Lukas says quietly.

Philip gives him a weak smile. "I hate thinking you feel that way, have felt that way for a long time," he admits, apparently not needing Lukas to actually reply to his question to know the answer. "And I never knew. I _wish_ I'd known."

"I didn't talk to you," Lukas says, because there's no use in denying it. Philip knows he's right, that things have been like that for Lukas. And he knows what it's like, too; is probably the only one in his life who understands — the way Lukas's palms get sweaty when he rides his bike home, the way his heart beats a little faster, the uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. He knows what it's like to try to prepare himself, steeling himself for whatever he'll find when he comes home — and yet never being quite prepared anyway.

"You should," Philip says. "From now on, let's talk about these kinda things, okay?"

Lukas lets out an aborted laugh. "I kinda suck at talking."

"Yeah, well, so do I. But you're getting better. We're getting better at this," Philip says. He rests his head against Lukas's shoulder, and Lukas curls his arm around him more tightly.

"Tell me something else. Something happy," he says.

"Like what?"

Lukas shrugs, trusting Philip to feel the movement of his shoulders without having to say anything.

Philip hums and pauses for just a moment. "It won't always be this way."

"No?" Lukas asks.

"You're eighteen, Lukas. We can go wherever we want," Philip says. "We just gotta hold out a little bit longer."

"Until college, you mean?" Lukas asks.

"Yeah. Just a few more months," Philip replies. "We'll probably start getting letters soon."

"I've been thinking about that. About rooming together," Lukas admits. It's been on his mind a lot, something he's been reminding himself of whenever things started getting too much, when he needed something to distract him, to give him hope.

Motocross was his whole life for so long, but losing the sponsorship, getting shot, it changed something inside of him. It's not all he wants anymore, and realizing that made him start to ponder other possibilities. Other options.

"Yeah. That'd be awesome," Philip says. "Our own little place. We'll be together every night. And on weekends, we can take your bike and drive somewhere, outside the city."

Lukas smiles, kissing Philip's messy hair again. "Sounds nice," he murmurs.

"Hmmm. And then we'll graduate, get a bigger apartment. A real one," Philip continues.

"Yeah," Lukas says and closes his eyes for a few moments, picturing it. A place that's just theirs. No parents, no fears, no problems. No crazy killers and judgmental small town people. Just a normal life, just the two of them.

He smiles, thinking about it.

+

It's outside the gas station, less than a week after their fight, that Lukas runs into his dad.

He's coming out of the small store, clutching a bottle of coke and a bag of gummy bears, and they nearly collide and he stumbles a few feet back.

"Dad," he says. Something akin to panic grips his chest, curling around his lungs. "Hi."

"Lukas," Bo says. He gives a small, barely there nod. His expression is guarded as if Lukas is some stranger, someone he doesn't know how to talk to, react to.

"Hey," Lukas repeats. Feeling awkward, unsure, he holds up the candy he just bought. "I, uh, I was stocking up."

Bo nods, quick and tight. He seems as uncomfortable as Lukas feels, and Lukas knows he's trying to give him the space he asked for. Waiting for Lukas to come to him.

Lukas clears his throat and glances at his bike, parked just a few feet away. He wonders if his dad saw it, if he knew Lukas was here. "I should go," he says.

Bo doesn't try to stop him, and Lukas isn't sure if he should be happy or sad about that.

+

He doesn't tell Philip about it, but he can't stop thinking about the encounter.

The awkwardness of it, the way it felt like they were strangers, people who didn't know what to say to each other because they didn't know each other well enough to even make small talk.

Lukas isn't sure what he wants, but it isn't this. It isn't running into his dad on accident once in a while and pretending like they barely know each other. Not knowing how to act around each other.

He wants something else. Something more. Or, if he can't have that, something less. But he doesn't want this limbo he feels he is in. Everyone deserves a second chance, and when it's family, maybe a third and fourth. Maybe an indefinite number of chances. Maybe he'll never truly give up, never truly stop hoping. But he needs to know where he's at right now, what he can expect. If he can expect anything at all, or if he should just pack up his things and find something else. Some place else.

And after a week away, he feels stronger. Better. Because at least he has options now, a place he can go to. He doesn't _need_ his dad in his life, as much as he wants him to be. But if there's a chance to fix this, to move past everything that has happened, Lukas is going to take it. And it might be stupid, might be wrong, but he can't help it.

So, a few days later, he drives over to the farm. He feels bad about not talking to Philip about it, knows omitting what he is doing is like a lie, but it's something he needs to do. For himself. And he knows Philip means well, but he's worried he would talk him out of it, make him see all the reasons why he probably shouldn't come here.

He almost regrets it when he gets there and his dad steps out of the barn, looking tense and weary.

"Hey," Lukas says, and he feels like an idiot. Like it's going to repeat of their encounter at the gas station all over again. But then his father's shoulders slump.

"Let's go inside," he suggests, and Lukas nods.

Neither of them talk until they're seated at the table in the kitchen. "How are you?" he asks, because it seems like a good conversation starter. Polite enough.

The whole situation feels incredibly awkward. Like they're strangers who've never talked to each other before. Lukas isn't a big talker by any means, but he's usually not that bad, that uncomfortable.

"Fine," Bo says, nodding and clearing his throat. "How is school?"

"It's okay," Lukas says, pasting on a smile in an attempt not to show how weird this feels. Wrong.

At least he can tell his dad isn't doing any better.

"So..." Bo says and trails off.

Lukas licks his lips and shrugs. "Right. So... I just thought we could talk," he tries. "I know things are all messed up right now, but..."

"But?" Bo prompts.

Lukas looks down at the table, traces a line in the wood with his thumb, nail following the groove. "It's not going to go away, the fact that I'm into guys."

Bo huffs. "I know this."

"Do you?"

"What do you want me to say, Lukas?" Bo asks, looking more tired than anything. "Is this an ultimatum? Do I have to accept it here and now if I want you to come back?"

His tone isn't harsh, but Lukas can still hear the underlying accusation. As if Lukas is here to make things difficult for him, to make things worse instead of better.

"No," he says. "No, this is just me trying to be honest. I want us to be okay, dad."

"It's not that easy, is it?" Bo says, and he sounds sad. More like the person Lukas has gotten used to over the last few months. Less angry, not the way he gets when he had a few drinks. But there's a sadness there, something that stops hope from blooming in Lukas's chest.

"I know," Lukas says. "I'm not asking for easy."

"No?" Bo asks and sorts. "Felt to me like you all did. Like I should just be okay with all of this suddenly. And I tried. But I'm not sure if I can do that."

"Okay," Lukas says and swallows thickly. It hurts, but at least they're talking, being honest. Even if it means the last few months have been a lie.

"What do you want me to say, Lukas?" Bo repeats. "Because I don't know anymore."

Lukas shrugs. "I don't know."

"I'm not sure how to change this."

"You know, after everything that happened, therapy really helped me," Lukas says softly. "With a lot of stuff. Made me see things differently. Maybe it could do that for you, too."

"You think I need therapy?"

"I'm not saying you have to...but I can't go on like this. I can't," Lukas says, and he hates the tears making his eyes burn now, the tightness in his throat. "I think you have some stuff to sort out. Not just about me, about everything. About you. And I'm not sure anything between us can change before you do."

"Lukas."

"Dad, please," Lukas whispers, and silently, desperately, he hopes, prays, he is getting through to Bo. That there's a part of him that wants to fix things with Lukas, wants things to get better as much as Lukas does.

Bo stays silent.

"I'm going to stay with Helen and Gabe for a while longer. But maybe we can talk sometimes," Lukas suggests.

"And Philip. You're staying with Philip," Bo adds. He sounds almost pained. Lukas wonders how he managed to pretend he was fine with Lukas's relationship for the past few months, how Lukas never noticed how much it's bothering him, eating at him. How not okay he is with this whole thing still.

Maybe Lukas, like everyone else, has just been seeing the things he wanted to see, too.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm staying with Philip," he says honestly, firmly. Because he can't lie about it, can't omit Philip just to make his dad feel better, make things easier. Because Philip is pretty much the only thing in his life that is making him feel okay, making him keep going and he deserves better.

Bo nods, movement curt, choppy.

Lukas gets up. "I don't want it to be like this, dad," he says, but he's pretty sure his dad gets what he's really saying — he's not going to change. And maybe this _is_ an ultimatum, because Lukas isn't going to keep taking whatever his father dishes out any longer. He can't, because it's already broken too much inside of him and he needs to fix himself. Needs to allow himself to heal, finally. And Philip, most of all, isn't something that's up for discussion; not anymore. Not ever.

He leaves and when the front door closes behind him, he realizes he's feeling okay. It still hurts, leaving, but it doesn't break his heart, because this isn't where he wants to be anymore. And he's going home to Philip.

+

Lukas listens to the clicking noises of the keypad as Philip works on his laptop, his back turned to him.

Lukas has been trying to read an assignment for class for the past thirty minutes, but his eyes keep straying to Philip, his attention shot to hell. He's read the same passage over and over again for what felt like a million times now, words registering without really making sense.

Finally, he gives up and gets up. He stands behind Philip, wrapping his arms around him, and looks at what he's doing. He sees himself on screen, a short clip of him smiling widely.

"You're making a video of me?" he asks. Philip leans back into him, not taking his eyes off the screen.

"Yeah."

"This isn't jumps," Lukas points out.

Philip just shrugs.

Lukas grins to himself. "It's just me..." he adds. "How many videos like this one are there? Oh god, Philip, do you have a whole folder of them?"

"No. Shut up," Philip says, glaring at him over his shoulder before minimizing the program.

Lukas laughs. He leans down, kisses Philip's neck, before resting his chin on his shoulder. "You're so obsessed with me," he teases.

Philip snorts. "You wish," he shoots back.

"You are," Lukas insists and kisses his shoulder. "Philip?"

"Yeah?"

Lukas sighs, closing his eyes for a brief moment. The position isn't comfortable. He's way too tall to lean down like that, but he doesn't want to move, to let go. "I went to see my dad today."

Philip tenses. Lukas can feel the line of his shoulders stiffen, his spine tensing as he sits up a little straighter.

"I knew you wouldn't like it," Lukas admits.

"It's not that."

"No?"

"No. I want you to have a better relationship with your dad. I want things to be _okay_ ," Philip says. "I just... I worry. I don't want you to get hurt anymore."

"I'll be careful."

Philip turns, swiveling the chair around, and Lukas straightens, shifts back to give him more space. "Was it okay? Seeing him?"

Lukas shrugs. "I don't know," he admits. "I said some stuff I think I kinda needed to say to him. And it felt kinda good, to get it out. But... I don't know if I really got through to him. If it'll change anything."

Philip looks up at him. "I hope it will," he says and then rests his forehead against Lukas's stomach, hands settling on Lukas's waist. Lukas strokes his hair, cards his fingers through the dark curls.

He feels okay. Not perfect, not at peace, but okay. As long as he has this.

Philip hums, shifting. The chair squeaks a little, and Lukas feels Philip's mouth brush against his stomach through the thin layer of his t-shirt. He shudders.

"Philip," he croaks. Philip lifts his chin, looking up at him, a grin playing around his lips.

His hands slide forward, fingers quickly working to undo Lukas's jeans. His grin getting wider, he pushes the material down along with Lukas's underwear, just enough to pull out his cock.

Arousal floods Lukas's body, sharp and sudden, making his head swim. He feels himself growing hard rapidly, blood rushing south, staring at himself, with Philip's long, elegant fingers wrapped around him, transfixed. And then Philip ducks his head down and wraps his mouth around him.

"Fuck," Lukas cries out, fingers tangling in Philip's hair, tugging.

Philip's mouth is hot and wet, and he look obscene and yet oddly sweet with his lips wrapped around Lukas's dick, looking up at him through his lashes, eyes dark and wide. He slides his mouth down his cock slowly, inch by inch, all tight, perfect pressure, before backing up again, his hand wrapped firmly around the base.

Suckling on the head of Lukas's cock, he hums, and Lukas screws his eyes shut, tries not to come right then and there. It feels beyond amazing when Philip does this, the slick mouth around his cock and the way he sucks him down — eagerly, as if he loves it. As if it makes him feel as amazing as it makes Lukas feel.

He's so beautiful like this. When he does this for Lukas. So beautiful and his. All his. Nobody else will ever get to see this, to have this, to know what it's like to have that perfect mouth wrapped around their cock. Taking him in deep, deeper, all the way until Lukas feels himself brush the back of Philip's throat and Lukas is pretty sure _he is dying_.

Philip doesn't gag, doesn't choke, just slowly pulls back, eyes wet and blinking, and then does it again, sucking Lukas down.

"Shit," Lukas spits out and Philip pulls back, almost all the way until he has just the head of Lukas's cock in his mouth. "Shit, Philip."

He feels more than hears Philip make a soft noise around him, the vibrations of the sound making him tremble with pleasure and need. He swirls his tongue over the head, tracing the slit, his hand slowly working Lukas at the same time.

"Please," Lukas murmurs, voice too high, too needy. He pulls at Philip's hair again, and he almost cries out in relief when Philip slowly sucks him down again.

His free hand settles on the swell of Lukas's ass, before he starts bobbing his head up and down. It's a bit sloppy, spit trailing down, and he makes a noise. Hungry, wet, muffled by the cock inside his mouth. Lukas is pretty sure he can't breathe, that the pleasure he feels will be enough to kill him, make his heart stop beating in his chest.

"Philip," he murmurs, over and over, trying hard not to move, not to thrust forward. Philip just gets louder in return, sucks his off harder, working his mouth around him. He lets go of Lukas's cock, lets his hand join the other hand, holding Lukas, tugging him closer as he sucks him in deep.

The movement makes the chair slide back a little, and Philip loses his rhythm, laughing around him. Lukas hears it, feels it, and he tenses, his orgasm crashing over him, sudden, unforgiving, pleasure rolling through him like hot, burning fire.

+

In bed, curled up together under the sheets, Lukas holds Philip. His thumb is tracing patterns on Philip's bare shoulder, fingers playing with Philip's where their hands are clasped, resting on his stomach.

He feels relaxed, content. Okay for the first time in over a week.

Lukas isn't sure things can be fixed any longer. But he knows now that Philip was wrong about one thing: He has a home, still, that place that is completely safe, where he can _feel_ safe. Where nobody can touch him, where he can be okay. It's not a house, though, not a place at all. It's this. Philip. Not a place, but a person — but home, one of safety and love and comfort, nonetheless.


End file.
